Shatterday
by TASHAx
Summary: It wasn't as though things had ended too badly between Ginny and Draco...well, no; that's a Rita Skeeter sized mistruth. Things had ended incredibly badly between the two of them. Messy, heart-breaking, impulsive and...bad. Just lots and lots of bad. But, now they have the chance, are they brave enough to try again?


_"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."_

― _Kahlil Gibran_

**Shatterday**

Ginevra Weasley was a strong, fiercely independent woman who juggled a busy social life, an overtly large family, and a high-pressure job at_ The Daily Prophet_. However, the mere thought of her ex-boyfriend catching one glimpse of her in the yellow monstrosity that Luna Lovegood had given her bridesmaids was enough to make her want to run and hide beneath her bed and not surface for at least four months. Or, at the very least, kick and punch at the floor until Luna agreed to take at least _some _of the ruffles off the bodice.

It wasn't as though things had ended _too _badly between her and Draco...well, no; that's a Rita Skeeter sized mistruth. Things had ended incredibly badly between the two of them. Messy, heart-breaking, impulsive and...bad. Just lots and lots of bad. Two wonderful years together filled with laughter, fire, feuding families and love culminated in Draco looking ashen and forlorn as Ginny bolted out the door of one of the most prestigious Italian restaurants in Wizarding London, a beautiful medieval ring still nestled in the navy velvet of a little box. The emerald glinting in the flickering candlelight, mocking both lovers and their sea of onlookers; _I'm what could've been._

She hadn't actually spoken to him since that evening. Or rather, he'd refused to speak to her and by the time he'd licked his wounds, Ginny had been deep undercover getting the inside scoop on a few renegade dark wizards who still believed in blood purity and the eradication of Muggles from the planet. It had been terrifying and exhausting, and once it was over, Ginny realised that eight months had passed and Draco was splashed all over the society pages with various blondes and brunettes clutching at his arm. No redheads, though, she noted with some pride. Or perhaps, she thought glumly, she had just put him off redheads for life.

"_Shit!_"

The expletive rang loudly throughout the silent flat.

Realising the time, Ginny scooped up her bag and wand and disappeared to Luna's house with a small _pop_. When she arrived she saw Hermione's hair was already halfway styled, and Rose - Luna's cousin - was applying the finishing touches to her make-up.

There was an air of frantic panic in the house; everyone seemed to be bustling everywhere despite the fact that they didn't seem to be doing an awful lot. Luna however, Ginny could bet, would be sublimely serene. She was going to marry Blaise Zabini, the love of her life, and Ginny was sure the Lovegoods had some sort of wedding tradition that would ensure lifelong happiness and good fortune. Unfortunately for Ginny it probably involved covering the head bridesmaid in honey and having her dance over a hornet's nest singing Auld Lang Syne.

Ginny giggled at her own ridiculousness but promptly stopped when a knot of tension appeared in her stomach once more...she was _singing _this evening. Luna had begged her to perform for the first dance, and who was Ginny to say no to the woman who had picked her up off the kitchen floor more times than she could count because of heartache, or work stress, or...or simply because Ginevra Weasley was a bit of an emotional wreck who struggled to always maintain a healthy equilibrium.

"Ginny, you're late!" Hermione's voice seemed to be a mixture of annoyance and relief. She jumped up the second the last pin was slid into her hair. "I thought you'd left me to brave the buttercup monstrosity alone. And_ look_ at my hair!"

"Oh shush, it's really not that bad...you know Luna, she has _eccentric _tastes," admonished Ginny, knowing full well she was ready to commit mutiny herself against the dress.

The hair itself really wasn't that bad, just a complex nest of twists and turns with a few yellow daisies dispersed throughout it.

Yellow signified luck, or some such nonsense, and Luna had insisted that nothing be left to chance. Although, Ginny mused, you only had to catch a glimpse of Blaise and Luna together to know that even if everyone had worn black and smeared their cheeks with the blood of the innocent, they were a couple meant for one another and they'd make their own luck and good fortune by loving one another.

And, hey, open and trusting relationships suited some people. Apparently.

Bringing herself out of a reverie that could only end badly, Ginny realised Hermione had been delivering something akin to a sermon on why her hair was bound to end up twice the size it usually was tomorrow morning after enduring today's hairdo. But disregarding the brunette's worries, she asked, "Where is the blushing bride, anyway?"

"Upstairs. Meditating." Both Rose and Hermione rolled their eyes, clearly exasperated at Luna's refusal to panic and become the Bridezilla that Fleur had been. Personally, Ginny thought that if she could bottle Luna's wedding zen she'd make a fortune, however given the current climate of the room she decided against sharing her business venture with the others.

**OOO**

Head pounding, mouth dry, and the hangover shakes well and truly trying to kick in, Draco stood at the front of the marquee, watching the wedding guests be herded into their allotted places by the ushers - two poor feckless cousins of Blaise's who had been forced into cornflower blue robes. No doubt the thought of dances with pretty society girls softened the blow of having to be so pleasant to all of Lovegood's kooky relatives.

Looking out over the congregation you could really see, on a massive scale, the differences between the bride and groom themselves. Blaise was old money - high-society and well bred. Luna was eccentric, open-minded, and spent only half of her time in reality. The Zabini family and friends were impeccably well dressed in silks and tailored cloaks; Lovegood's brood was swathed in clashing fabrics and odd headdresses.

Well, perhaps this was a little uncharitable, considered Draco. Only Luna's blood family looked especially exuberant. The rest were just a little...common. Yeah, his nasty little conscience - that sounded remarkably like a redhead he once knew - piped up, because that's _so _much more charitable.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't wise to have sat up all night drinking his father's wine collection the evening before his best friend's wedding, particularly not when he was supposed to be the best man.

However, today was the first day in far too long that he was going to see

Ginevra Weasley, and it would be safe to say he needed more than a little dutch courage. Although perhaps Blaise had the correct idea when he'd quit after the third bottle and gone to bed, because now Draco not only felt queasy at the prospect of encountering Ginny today - and having to give a speech - he was also fighting to keep down the last bottle of rioja.

In fact, in spite of it being one of the biggest days of his life, Blaise looked far more at ease than Draco did; he stood tall, his face a picture of calm confidence, his eyes full of pride and emotion. Draco envied him; no more endless string of vapid women, no regretting who you woke up next to. He thought he'd be in this very same position not too long ago, but…well, he should've known a little better than to think it was ever going to run smoothly.

He found his thoughts drifting to summer evening, three years: It had been at a ministry function honouring Harry Potter and his band of merry men (and women) who had saved the Wizarding World. Everyone had been raucously happy, drunk and excitable, but there she was, standing on a balcony alone. Her long red hair was sticking to her shoulders and bare back in the almost unbearable summer heat that didn't seem to want to break even when the evening had rolled in. He felt drawn to her energy, and as he approached her, he found himself appreciating the creamy tone of her exposed skin, and noticing a trail of freckles that started at the top of her spine and disappeared into the black silk of her slinky dress. He knew then he'd like to taste each sprinkling of freckles Ginevra Weasley possessed.

Draco knew he didn't believe in love at first sight (goodness knows he'd seen the girl trailing after Potter enough times in his youth), or soul mates or fate or anything like that. However he did know in that moment that he wanted the redhead before him. Wanted to feel her, to know her, to understand her; who was she and why couldn't he take his eyes off her?

He joined her, and after meeting a little resistance, succeeded in engaging her in conversation. Before long he had swiped a bottle of extremely potent elderflower champagne, and the two of them sat beneath the stars taking swigs from the bottle. No one came looking for them and no one noticed they were gone.

He learned that she found it as hard as he to celebrate the war; the losses, the pain, the violence, and the coercion into situations beyond their control had left scars too deep and raw to cover up with make-up and a few jaunty dances beneath pretty lights.

They watched dawn arrive and parted ways with promises of dinner that evening. They didn't look back after that, they simply pushed forward; pushed through family adversity, society expectations, Weasley family BBQs and Malfoy garden parties. He had thought they were strong, unbreakable and timeless. She had opened him up to the world, to feelings, to just experiencing life and he grounded her. He protected her; he made her feel wanted and desired…

Draco was plucked from his nostalgia as the congregation stood up in a rustle of fabric, as the opening bars of a melody signified the arrival of the bride. Blaise's chest seemed to swell with love and he shot a nervous grin at Draco, who looked as though he was about to throw up. His grey eyes were fixed on the head bridesmaid, who had just entered. Ginny was trussed up in a bright yellow gown, decked in ruffles, and her hair had become an elaborate nest of curls, but beneath all of that, beneath Lovegood's styling, was Ginevra Weasley; the woman he loved. Had loved_. Loved._

She had lost a little weight and a little of the inquisitiveness that used to shine through her large brown eyes - but she was here. It was almost like he had acquired tunnel vision; all he could see was Ginny walking down the aisle. She was doing the best she could to avoid Draco's stare, however, at the very last moment when she reached the end of the aisle and stood by the beautiful, flower covered arch, she looked up from her bouquet of lilacs and saw the man she'd left months before gazing back at her, his stare unreadable.

**OOO**

The ceremony had been remarkably short and sweet, although Ginny doubted she'd have noticed if it had gone on for days. The entire event went hazy from the moment she'd seen Draco staring at her from across the other side of the altar, and it wasn't until she hit the fresh air that the world reverted to technicolor once more, and the sounds of clapping, conversation and celebration resonated loudly through the air once again. Luna and Blaise were hand-in-hand and lost in one another's happiness. Confetti flew through the air and sparks from a hundred wands filled the sky with violet, orange and bright blue streaks.

"_Weasley_."

The word cut through the chaos easily. His clipped, posh British accent was unmistakable. How often had she fallen asleep listening to him read to her?

Ginny turned around to face the owner of the voice; his blond hair was long and swept back, his navy dress robes impeccably cut to flatter his tall, willowy physique.

"Draco." She had meant to sound assertive and sure of herself. She may have been the one to run from him, but Ginny was determined to stand in front of Draco with conviction, determined to muster as much pride as she could and look him directly in the eyes. Instead her voice sounded flimsy and hushed; a fretful inhale of breath.

Before conversation could bloom, or even before awkwardness could occur, members of the wedding party were being ushered over to a poppy field dappled with beautiful autumn sunlight for photographs with the newlyweds. Ginny let herself be swept up in the crowd, feeling both disappointed and relieved. However, before she had quite made it through the gate, she was grabbed by a wide-eyed Ron.

"Ginny! Ginny-winny-woo! I forgot to tell you! Something…I forgot to tell you…some something!"

Ron's bright blue eyes were darting from left to right, his cheeks damp and clammy. He seemed overwrought and excitable. His voice was high-pitched, his breathing erratic.

"Ron…what in the name of Helga Hufflepuff is wrong with you?"

"I, er, I don't know. But…errrm, I was at Luna's wedding and then…then something happened, yes. Something happened. I feel happy. Doesn't Hermione look lovely? I think she looks lovely like a duck. A silky bru-bru-brunette duck."

Massaging her temples Ginny looked around for help…divine intervention…anything that could possibly cure or, at the very least, silence her brother - who had apparently been hit by the most horrendous Confundus Charm in the past five minutes, or had otherwise taken to smoking crack when no one else was looking.

"I think Hermione might quite like to be a duck…shame I'm not good with transfiguration…SHE COULD DO IT IN A MIRROR!"

People were beginning to turn around and stare at the two Weasleys; Luna's family smiled genially whilst Blaise's seemed genuinely offended by Ron's outburst. He continued chuntering on about ducks and feathers and stale bread. His words were hurried, blurring into one another and becoming more rapid by the second. His cheeks turned a lovely shade of puce and were clashing extraordinarily well with his maroon robes.

Ginny did the only thing she could possibly think of in that panicked second - with people starting to notice to her brother's gibberish, with Draco within touching distance, and with the photographer becoming irate that the head bridesmaid appeared to have been distracted by a lunatic - she slapped Ron with all her might across the cheek.

"Ouch, Gin, I was only saying you and Hermione looked great today…I mean, a little on the yellow side, but great. Merlin. Malfoy being here has really screwed you up…"

Rubbing his cheek and shaking his head, Ron walked into the crowd, utterly bemused as to why the Zabinis were looking at him as though he'd gained an extra head.

"Oi, Red, if you're quite finished with your theatrics, maybe I could get you over here!"

The photographer was clicking his bony little fingers at her.

Thus, not quite understanding how her day had taken such an interesting and bizarre turn, Ginny could do nothing but obey the pushy little man and join the rest of the wedding party.

There were various combinations of people posed and reposed in front of the camera. For the most part, Ginny remained a docile puppet for Lady Zabini, the photographer, and Hermione to mould as they saw fit, but when it came to a photograph composed solely of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, she found it hard to comply. She was placed next to Draco; she could feel his body heat, smell the cool scent of his expensive cologne and peppermints, but couldn't bring herself to look at him, to touch him. There was an inch between the bare skin of her arm and the silky material of his robes, and Ginny was sure she could feel the electricity of unspoken words, lost memories and hurt feelings flying over her synapses.

"And if the groomsmen and bridesmaids could face each other…"

The four clicks of the camera seemed to take an age, and the feeling that the world was muted had returned from the moment Ginny and Draco had turned to face one another. It was bizarre and suffocating and intimidating. There was so much to say, and so little that could be said.

Draco had known today would be difficult and painful, but he hadn't expected to feel this confused. Looking down at her right now, a bundle of red silk, freckles and anxiety, he couldn't help but want to scoop her up in his arms and tell her he didn't care if she had issues, didn't care she'd rejected and humiliated him. But it did matter, and conversations did need to be had, and certain things did need to be made clear.

Before Ginny could gather together any coherent thoughts, she was dragged off by Hermione and Rose, both of whom were chattering happily about the ceremony, questioning Ginny on Ron's "moment," and lamenting their grumbling stomachs. Taking a deep breath, the redhead made a conscious decision that she was going to start functioning like a normal witch for the rest of the day. This wasn't about her. This day was about Luna and Blaise. She had already had her time; she had screwed up with Draco and monopolised her friends with her tales of woe and over-analysing. She was going to make every effort to be civil with Draco today and not to have an emotional meltdown in a portaloo round the back of the giant white marquees whilst everyone else feasted on cake and danced badly to the band.

**OOO**

Ginny had never seen so many bright yellow and blue bubbles in her life – in fact, she didn't think she'd ever really seen bright yellow and blue bubbles floating just above her head at all – but regardless of this, Luna had done a beautiful job of decorating the marquee. There were candles everywhere, floating blue sprites, and reams and reams of yellow-gold ribbons dangling and curling just above the heads of the congregation. Smoky piano music drifted through the air, an element that was unmistakably Blaise, and large Champagne bottles flew about the tent, refilling glasses the minute they dipped below the halfway point (something else that was Blaise's idea, undoubtedly). Ginny suspected she would be on the wrong side of tipsy before this day was finished. However, she also suspected that insobriety was the secret to getting to the end of today.

Draco sat next to Blaise, and Ginny next to Luna on the long banquet table at the head of the room, but it was remarkably easy for the redhead to pretend her former lover was not sitting there. She spent most of the meal facing Hermione.

Luna didn't seem to notice, as she was wrapped up in her new husband and glowed with pride every time a guest approached the top table to congratulate them. The food was glorious, prepared by Blaise's cousin's catering company, and for the first time in months Ginny felt like she was really able to taste what she was eating. It was almost as though a piece of who she was had been left behind when she ran from Draco that evening, and despite the awkwardness and despite the silence that was filled with hurt and love, he was still completing her by simply being close by.

Although to be honest, she was a little anxious about the fact he hadn't spat words of venom at her, and hadn't shown any real hostility at all even though Ginny knew it was perfectly understandable for him to do so.

Ginny hadn't meant to run from him that night. She had been very much in love with him and, for that matter, was still very much in love with him, but something deep within her had never enjoyed that level of commitment to another. Since Tom Riddle and his diary, Ginny had been fighting to love and accept herself. It wasn't as bad as it was, and, of course, when you're a teenager hormones and emotions are running wild anyway, but it certainly left a lasting mark. It was hard to accept a love that she couldn't afford to give herself.

Draco had prized her above everyone and everything and he wanted to be with her forever. And when he'd said those words, in that place so full of people, it had felt like a vice tightening around her chest. She had panicked and run. Ginny knew she needed to learn to see her own self-worth, needed to defeat a few personal demons and then, perhaps, she would be fit to fall in love properly with another person.

She had never explicitly explained this to Draco; he had known she was fragile and a little broken, but it wasn't even until that moment that Ginny had been able to pinpoint why relationships and commitment had never seemed comfortable to her. There had been nights she'd woken up feeling like she was wearing something entirely too tight, with cold, clammy sweat breaking out in beads all over her flesh. Draco had calmed her, had loved her despite her panic attacks.

The ringing sound of a knife against a Champagne flute caused a hush to fall over the tent, and Ginny was brought out of her thoughts with a start. Draco stood, and Ginny felt him take a deep breath and switch into his charismatic I-can-control-a-room mode.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am very sorry to distract you from your Champagne and conversation. However…"

He was funny and he was charming and _he was too bloody good looking for his own good_, were the main thoughts drifting in Ginny's mind throughout Draco's speech. She had forgotten how much he could make her laugh. She hadn't expected it when they'd first began seeing one another; Draco Malfoy could be witty, in fact he could be side-splittingly hilarious. He was playful and wicked and liked to tease, and he had kept her smiling every day they were together. Not that they didn't have their arguments and differences, but he knew how to play and knew how to love her.

A round of applause signified the end of Draco's speech and it was Xenophilius Lovegood's turn to speak. The eccentric man who'd raised Luna alone since she was nine was already sobbing into an overtly large, spotty handkerchief. His words were muffled by emotion and tears, although Ginny seriously doubted that his speech would have made too much sense even if he could have been entirely coherent.

"So," whispered Hermione beneath her breath, "how are you doing today – Draco being here and everything?"

Ginny had known this was going to come. No one really knew how things had ended with her and Draco, only that they had, and that since that time Draco had reverted back to acting like he was a twenty-one year old playboy, and Ginny had thrown herself into work with alarming gusto.

"Honestly, Hermione, I don't know…I've missed him. So much."

"I just don't understand why you two haven't talked!"

"Timing, Hermione. Bad timing and shitty pride."

"But there's something still there, isn't there? I can see it!"

"So _what_? This is Luna's day; it isn't time for me to bring up my screwed up relationship!"

There was more applause and then everyone was on their feet.

A loud unknown voice rang out across the marquee. "We drink to the bride and groom! To future happiness! To love! To Luna and Blaise!"

Amongst the drinking, cheering and clapping, Ginny could feel Hermione's eyes on her; she knew the brunette was only trying to look out for her, but Ginny's heart was breaking all over again and she was struggling to hold herself together without Hermione interrogating her.

Voice hurried, harsh, and hushed, Ginny began to rant. "Look, I am two Draco-related questions away from a meltdown, I just want to get through the next couple of hours without having to over analyse the fuck-up that is me, Hermione. I love you, I appreciate your concern, but I don't know what's happening right now and as far as I know he is going to be shagging some simpering blonde this evening and not giving a flying fig that I will be crying into an extremely large bottle of damson gin!"

The clearing of a throat caused Ginny to turn, as a false, overly-bright smile forced itself on her lips.

It was Draco. He was standing there with a blank expression on his face.

"I…I have to go warm up." And before the blond could speak, Ginny dashed off towards the stage.

**OOO**

Draco watched as his redhead ran away from him again. She was irritatingly good at fleeing from an awkward situation. A little part of him had felt satisfaction in knowing she wasn't seeing anyone else, and that she had noticed his exploits with other women. The other part of him felt sick that she'd been hurt by his actions, which had been splashed gloriously across all the society papers.

Revenge hadn't really been a part of debauched spiral he was currently spinning in. Yes, he'd known she would know about it - she worked at_ The Prophet_, for Merlin's sake - and yes, he'd liked the idea that she'd be aware of his movements, but mostly, he hoped it would tell her not how much fun he was having, but how much pain he was in.

She knew him better than most people, knew that when he self-destructed, it was because he was in pain and couldn't stand to be alone with his thoughts. Instead he required alcohol and distraction. She had just left him there; he had been totally bereft and then she'd gotten roped into some horrendously dangerous undercover story for _The Prophet_ without telling him. She could've died, or at least been seriously hurt, and she hadn't even given him the courtesy of knowing. Draco was furious at her for a myriad of reasons; he was hurting and, most of all, he missed her. And if she couldn't bring herself to work through the issues she had about relationships and commitment eventually, she did owe him a conversation at the very least. She'd stolen a part of his soul that day she left him. He wanted it back. He wanted her back.

Draco grimaced at Hermione, not having the energy to converse with the brunette at that moment, and walked back to his seat. The band was tuning up their instruments and he could see Ginny nervously wringing her hands as she ran through a few scales with the pianist.

A large bottle of champagne refilled his flute and he drained it almost immediately. Blaise had warned him that Ginny was going to sing this evening. Apparently Luna had asked her to as a present to the couple. It was supposedly excellent luck if a friend and loved one sang for the couple's first dance and...well, Ginny had such a beautiful voice that Draco thought it made perfect sense to have her perform. He had always loved hearing her sing; she was so talented that Draco couldn't understand why she didn't try to make a career of it. But something about fame terrified her. She didn't want the notoriety. Not that possessing Weasley genes didn't make her a legend in her own right anyway. Everyone knew the old bloodlines.

He watched her as she started unpicking her hair. She hated having it tied back. Once all the restraints were out, Ginny shook her head and ran her fingers through the flame coloured tendrils a few times; it was big and curly and made her look like a pre-Raphaelite goddess under the low candle light. Taking a deep, calming breath Ginny approached the front of the stage, holding her wand like a microphone, an amplifying spell clearly cast upon her voice.

"Ladies and gentleman, please, can we gather for Luna and Blaise's first dance as a married couple!" Her voice, low and gravelly, spread over the room and people were soon excitedly standing around the perimeter of the dance floor. There was so much expectation for the first dance; it was the first time the married couple really had the chance to have a private moment, a few minutes to touch one another, hold each other. Yet, observed as it was by so many, Draco always thought it was a ritual that felt incredibly voyeuristic. He remained seated at the top table, where he could see both the dancing couple and the stage without having to stand in amongst the other guests.

The opening chords began to fill the air, and Ginny started swaying to the beat, her large eyes half closed as she felt the music wash over her. . There was something beautifully primitive about music and, in fact, about this whole day; raw, emotional energy was buzzing in the air. There were so many magical beings here to celebrate a love, a union and a new beginning. A pagan ceremony that was performed out in the countryside, close to nature and to the Earth, was a powerful and heady experience for any witch or wizard. The Lovegoods, crazy as they may be, were clearly aware of the power the natural world had to offer.

Swallowing any nerves Ginny may have possessed, she felt herself letting go of any anxieties she'd had that day. She focused, instead, on her two friends who were in love and her awe at their commitment to one another. She wished them well; health, prosperity, love...everything.

Parting her lips, she began to sing.

_"I just want to see you when you're all alone, I just want to catch you if I can..." _

Draco felt himself simultaneously tense and relax in the same moment. The music rolled over him. Ginny's voice saturated the air; it was husky and filled with soul.

Blaise and Luna were already lost in one another's eyes, completely unaware of their audience. Draco was feeling something similar himself. The more she sang, the more lost in her he became.

Images flitted through his mind; Ginny lying beneath him, her eyes closed, her back arched, her hair spread across the white cotton pillows; her ice cold feet touching his in the middle of the night; her face smudged with flour as she attempted to bake cookies for his birthday, just like he'd had as a child; her face tear streaked and blotched red with anger as they shouted about her taking on dangerous assignments.

Her, her, her.

Ginny laughing, running, working, ink-splattered, sleeping, mid-orgasm, crying.

"_I know you want to hear me catch my breath, I love you 'til the end..."_

Ginny opened her eyes properly for the first time since the song began and found herself caught in Draco's heated gaze from the back of the room. The intensity in their stare would have been enough to ignite the entire room. She yearned to reach out and touch him, to fix them and love him again. To love him in an entirely new way in which she could return the amount of affection and commitment he placed in her. Their separation made her realise how deeply she'd loved him, how much she needed him.

_"I just want to see you laugh, not cry..."_

She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. He wanted to fight for them. There really was no one else for him and he knew that. He'd always known that. Ginny had broken him and only she could fix him.

_"All I can say...I love you 'til the end...I love you 'til the end..."_

As the song ended the rapturous applause seemed to wake both Ginny and Draco and Blaise and Luna from their respective reveries. Ginny wiped the tears that had begun flowing thickly down her cheeks and did a little bow before leaving the stage. The intensity dissipated as the band began to play a faster jive and other guests flooded the dance floor.

Moments later, Ginny stood out in the night air gulping in oxygen as though she'd been drowning. She didn't know what on earth had just happened, but one thing that was abundantly clear: she and Draco were not finished.

**OOO**

Ginny had returned to the marquee, her mind still full with thoughts of Draco. She tried to distract herself by dancing with Ron and Hermione, chatting with Harry, congratulating Blaise and Luna again, and drinking several more glasses of champagne. In fact, it was the final sip of her fifth glass that made her bold enough to clamour through the crowd of people all currently slow dancing to stand in front of Draco Malfoy and ask him to dance.

His hair was mussed, the top two buttons on his dress robes undone and his eyes heavy with fatigue and whiskey.

He took in her dishevelled appearance, her rosy cheeks and bare feet. She never had been very good at wearing high heels for long periods of time.

"I know you probably can't stand the thought of dancing with me, but-"

Her words were cut short when Draco took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor. He didn't speak. His hands encircled her waist and his eyes bore directly into hers. His touch, his gaze and his grip were not gentle or tender; there was an ice there that she hadn't felt for years. When they initially begun seeing one another he'd a sort of grit to him, a wall that had slowly crumbled in the first year they were together.

Tears spilled down onto Ginny's cheeks, hot and salty, but she refused to stop the dance. Both could feel the gaze of others upon them and hear the whispers that wanted to know why the two ex-lovers were in each other's arms once more.

"Ginny. We need to have a conversation."

"I think that's an understatement," whispered the redhead.

"Follow me."

Suddenly Draco's voice had turned harsh and cold. His gait was steadfast and strong as he marched out of the marquee. Ginny barely managed to keep up; her stomach was churning, her skin tingling, and fear seemed to be rising from her very core, throttling her as it travelled up through her chest and throat. This was a moment that seemed long overdue, but which was now approaching all too soon.

Every fibre in the redhead's body was screaming at her to run, to flee and to escape the impending emotionally crushing experience that was undoubtedly about to happen, but something else within her forced her to stay. Something within Ginny was fighting against her natural defence mechanism. The pain of losing Draco, which was still so raw, seemed stronger than her fears of entrapment, commitment, and disappointing the man who loved her.

Draco stopped once they had reached the end of the field, a hundred yards away from the dim light of the marquee. The night air filled with the hum of muted laughter and music.

The blond was leaning against the wooden fence, his back to Ginny. Neither spoke for a while, they simply let the night time chill settle around them, both painfully aware of one another's presence, both feeling the tension and hurt.

"Draco."

"Why, Ginny? _Why_?" His words felt like a sharp slap to the face. "You left me. You just _left_ me standing there. I knew you had issues! Merlin, we all have _fucking_ issues but we are supposed to be able to talk to one another. I gave you everything I had and you couldn't give me anything at all, could you?"

The words that had been ready to fall from his lips for months seemed to be blaring into the night air like the agonizing cries of a wounded animal.

"You're so selfish, Ginevra."

"I know, Draco, I know…and I'm sorry, I didn't plan -"

"Well that makes the whole thing so much _more _palatable! I'd hate to think you'd planned to humiliate me, break my heart and destroy what we had. You did not _need_ to run. You did not _need_ to stay away, you stupid girl." His voice was quieter now, but hard as granite.

He turned to face Ginny, and found that she was sobbing quietly and wringing her hands.

Once he'd been silent for about five minutes she began to speak, her words were barely a whisper. "I – I shouldn't have run that day. But something in me just panicked. I thought I was choking, dying. I felt trapped and scared and I couldn't say yes to you, I couldn't love you like you wanted me to. Fuck. I couldn't even _like_ myself some days!"

Draco scraped his hand through his hair, inhaling deeply.

"You know, Gin, I might not been an expert on relationships but I thought we agreed to trust each other enough to share shit like _I might do a runner on you one day because I have repressed childhood issues_."

His bitterness felt like a whip cracking across her back, biting against her flesh.

"And then that ridiculous mission you took. You didn't even tell me. You didn't even send a message. I found out about it when I picked up the bastard _Prophet_ and read your article!"

"I didn't think you'd care."

Swinging himself round, Draco punched the fence hard letting out an angry grunt as he did so. Ginny gasped loudly, her breath caught in her throat.

"Ginevra Weasley," he ground out from behind gritted teeth, "_you are a fool_. How could I stop _caring_ about you?"

Draco found himself walking towards her. Once they stood only inches apart he held her face tightly using his thumbs to roughly swipe away the steady flow of tears from her cheeks.

"Merlin, Ginevra, I _still_ love you. You're selfish and ridiculous and impulsive and, for all intents and purposes, utterly insane at times - but I will always love you."

"And... I just couldn't believe that, Draco."

"I told you all the time. I showed you every day."

"I just couldn't believe that you could love me. I couldn't believe that you wanted me. Sometimes I used to want to rip my own fucking skin off just so I could try to be someone new!"

Her tears started to fall once more. Draco pulled her to him, burying her face in his chest. His body language was still stiff, however; he wasn't ready to allow her back so easily and have her fit so comfortably in his arms again. Not yet. But equally he couldn't watch her deconstruct herself in front of him. He'd never known truly how broken she had been: she had never let him know. She had never let _anyone_ know.

Both sank to the floor and found themselves kneeling opposite one another. The grass was cold and dewy and the distant sounds of Luna's wedding seemed somewhat ridiculous in comparison to the broken couple that sat gripping on to each other's hands in the night.

Once Ginny's breathing was steady once more, Draco lifted her face so that her eyes met his. They were red and bloodshot, and despite the darkness he could see her cheeks very heavily flushed. It was in that moment that Ginny and Draco began to heal. Both were aware of the long road that lay before them, both knew that it would take time and openness and endless conversation to fix them. But in that second neither had any more words to say; the long day of being around one another after so long apart, the short burst of anger, the tears and the personal revelations had exhausted them.

Leaning forward, Draco put his lips to hers. She tasted like salt and champagne. Her lips seemed to take a moment to realise they were pressed against Draco's once more. She had never dared to believe he'd want to kiss her again.

Ginny suddenly seemed to flare to life. Her hands knotted themselves in Draco's hair and her tongue ran along the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth, allowing her access to taste him once more. She had scrambled desperately onto his lap, and then used her weight to push him back so that they were lying upon the ground. She could feel his hands everywhere, tracing the contours of her body, remembering the woman he loved so much.

Their passion burned brightly, then began to cool. Their kisses stilled and Ginny found herself lying atop the blond, her breathing in-sync with his, her head resting upon his chest, their legs entwined. Exactly how long they lay there in silence neither knew, but a promise was made to try again; to talk, to love, to laugh, to shout, to cry, to hope and to heal.

**OOO**

Luna smiled serenely to herself as she looked about the marquee and noticed the absence of her head bridesmaid and her husband's best man. All of the yellow had worked; she'd known since the moment she'd met him that Blaise was the only good luck charm she needed. Ginny and Draco, however, needed all the help they could get: Both so broken, both so proud.

"Please tell me," Blaise whispered into his wife's ear, "that Weasley and Draco left _together._"

"Yep. Thank goodness too, I was starting to think I'd have to employ the help of a Tufty Eared Monkhat to get them talking again."

Blaise smiled into Luna's blonde hair and pulled her onto the dance floor for the final dance. He didn't have the heart to tell her his self-refilling champagne bottles and free bar probably had more to do with the two ex-lovers finally conversing again than her colour scheme.

**OOO**

**A/N: **So this was my other entry in the D/G fic exchange for Toria. I really battled with this bloody fic. I like to pick prompts that actually challenge me but this was ridiculous; it just would not write itself for love nor money. I'm happier now I've made a few adjustments and ended it properly, I think. Bah. Let me know.

Beta'd by the wonderful Rowan (rowan-greenleaf) who has had to listen to me whinge and hate on this fic a lot over the last couple of weeks. Poor girl.

**Toria's Prompt**

**Basic premise:** A wedding Draco and Ginny both attend. They have had a relationship in the past that did not end well.

**Must haves:** Something unconventional that might usually appear in a crack!fic (a characterization, a dialogue, an object, a situation, etc.); The bridesmaids and best man must be named and somehow involved in the story.

**No-no's:** Harry/Hermione (unless they break up)

**Rating range:** T and up

**Bonus points:** It's Draco and Ginny's wedding.


End file.
